Corazon
by ohvalencia
Summary: Damon has finally found a perfect contender for his Princess of Darkness. But is she really what she seems to be?
1. Strangers in the Night

**Hi! I am completely new to this website, though you may have seen this story before. I initially wrote it three years ago and I've only recently found the desire to get back into writing, and breath new life into it.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy. This'll be my first post ever here :)**

* * *

"My Spanish rose..."

"I am _not_ your rose," Sophia replied, though a delicious tingle ran down her spine at the possessiveness in his voice. Secretly, she was pleased.

She steadily regarded the young man in front of her. She could recall his handsome features perfectly if she were to close her eyes: the smooth paleness of his skin, the soft contours of his lips, the true inky black of his wavy hair; the same deadly shade that matched his eyes, which seemed, to her, darker than the night. Those handsome features would never change, not because she'd always remember him as he was tonight (and certainly every night they would meet), perfect and youthful, but because he would always remain so. Young, he was not.

He was a predator, a vampire, and she was a beautiful girl. Somehow, she had become more than that to him, more than a vessel of warm blood conveniently wrapped in good looks. Somehow, things for Sophia had become more than a game of cat and mouse. She was not stupid, that she made abundantly clear when she refused him entry into her apartment, though at times she would wonder how her stupidity had gotten her to where she was – flirting with a powerful vampire.

She was just asking for _it_. What _it _was, she wasn't quite sure, but she definitely knew the consequences would be grave. She frowned at the thought of it, for it was always on her mind.

Seeing her carefully composed expression disintegrate caused the corner of his lip to quirk into the beginning of a smirk. That smirk deepened as he added, "A thorny one at that, but all the more beautiful for it."

"Why don't you leave me alone, Damon?" She sighed as she ran a hand through her hair, feigning restlessness. She shivered in her night gown, which was what she was wearing in bed when he happened to appear at her window hovering in thin air – that wicked smile of his plastered across his face.

Her eyes rose toward the sky, which she could barely see through the dark grey clouds Damon had brought with him. It was unnecessary, a little parlour trick powerful vampires used during the day to lessen the harshness of the sun. But it was night time now, and instead of seeing the stars, Sophia was glancing up at the thick blanket of clouds hanging over her head. She never pointed out she knew of the connection between the weather and Damon; it would reveal too much, and she could never have him know her secret. Thinking about that, too, brought deeper lines into her frown.

"Are you cold?" Damon was already shrugging out of his leather jacket before she could open her mouth to insist he keep it on. He gingerly set it on her shoulders, careful not to touch her, then went back to lounging against the trunk of the large oak tree that sat in the middle of the courtyard, which she could see from her window in her apartment above. A little furrow in his brow appeared, and soon enough, the clouds had disappeared and the blue light of the moon was dancing through the holes in the oak's foliage. Sophia could see more of his face now.

_'Why don't you get it over and done with? Suck me dry and leave me to rot, here, under the oak tree in the courtyard,'_ she thought to herself, a crease appearing in her own brow. Though he could read minds, this thought she kept to herself. She made absolutely sure of that. Instead, she asked, "And will I be expecting you again tomorrow night, Mr. Salvatore? Or will you disappear for any length of time, and leave me alone, finally forget me?"

"I'll never forget you," He quietly answered, his posture straightening. Under the soft hush of his voice was a fierceness she could barely detect, whether it was to convince her, or himself, Sophia could not figure. "I just get... occupied with... other endeavours."

'...with _Elena_,' Sophia finished, herself. She tried to keep that thought from slipping through her mental cracks, but knew he had heard it. While his face coloured, Sophia's lost all expression once more. She looked directly into the endless black of his eyes, which she knew were slowly filling with fire. A fire that her thought had stoked.

"I made a promise to her." He bit back the bile that was rising in his throat. How dare she!

Sophia waved her hand through the air, back and forth. 'I know, I know,' she told him wordlessly, with eyes that had narrowed with weariness. Her arrogance was fighting to the surface, arrogance she had absently absorbed when she was a child, all those years she had grown up. Damon would understand - he himself was of noble blood. His arrogance poured out of every fibre of his body, was there in the curve of his smile, the nonchalant way he held himself, as if nothing could possibly interest the great Damon Salvatore. He did not seem at all amused by her. Electricity seemed to threaten to come shooting out of the tips of his slender fingers.

"Well?" She asked aloud.

"Well what?" He snapped.

"Will I be losing more sleep in the days to come?" '_Will you finally bleed me?_' she finished silently, safe once more behind the steely mental wall in her mind.

He couldn't hear her mentally, she knew that. But, he spoke as if he were answering the question on her mind. "Oh, one day Sophia, I will taste your sweet blood." He sent her a smile that would make any functioning woman swoon, but the fire was still blazing in his eyes, if not a little more dully.

"And why is today not the day? Why wasn't last week, or the month before?" She could think of the endless opportunities he had when he could have easily fed from her.

"Because, my dear, beautiful rose," He answered, "I do love a challenge."

Sophia shook her head, her dark ringlets scattering around her bare shoulders. "You are a stubborn man."

Damon grinned at that, at her calling him a man. A man – he was so far from his humanity, yet this girl, a baby compared to him, reminded him of what he once was. "As you are a stubborn little girl," He replied, making the words short and clipped, just as a cloud slipped in front of the moon, drenching them in absolute darkness.

Sophia squinted into the dark. When the moon appeared again, he was gone.


	2. The Hunter

The wood was alive, teeming with creatures, all so warm and full of rich blood. A large white wolf padded easily through the undergrowth, her dark eyes drinking the night. Though the small critters hiding in the niches of the trees were enticing and deliciously warm, they did not interest her. She had fed well that night, and was now taking a leisurely stroll through the woods. With her shields completely down, a slight smirk was on her wolfish face. She dared any creature to test her Power. It had been so long since she had used it, but she knew she had to maintain it in order to survive. She had to be the best, but no one could ever know, not unless they wanted instant death.

The wolf sighed, letting out a breath of air that seemed to end in a slight disappointed whine. Nothing particularly interesting was in the Old Wood tonight.

* * *

Damon was feeling especially empty today. His curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he gave into his urges, perching himself in a convenient location to peer through the window of his little brother's room. They were truly nauseating, Stefan and Elena. What she saw in Stefan, he didn't know. What he _did _know was that he was the better brother. He was faster, stronger, and more cunning.

'And yet, he has the girl,' He frowned to himself. Well, as best as a crow could.

He had _tried _getting her out of his mind. He scoured the area for anyone who could compare – anyone with deep blue eyes and golden hair. What he found was his own dark beauty, Sophia, who was young and beautiful and as stubborn as he. He remembered seeing her for the first time, her slim waist cinched with a _Ralph's Cafe_ apron.

He was never really interested in coffee, but the local university coffee shop was always a choice hunting ground. He had waited until she finished her shift, and followed her home to her apartment. When the sun went down, and she had retired to her bed, he came to her window, and, smiling as if hovering in mid-air was a common occurrence, he asked if he could be invited in. Of course, he let his Influence cut into his words, just a little jab to encourage her. But she stared back at him, with eyes that seemed as dark as his, completely clear and not at all misty with his Power.

"I won't let you in," She told him, unmoving, calmly and quietly from the other side of the window.

Damon almost fell from the sky. No girl had ever refused him... not since Elena had. She was strong willed, perhaps even more than Elena was. That she hadn't even folded under his Influence astounded him, but not as much as it should. Though he was strong, he only very rarely concentrated all his energies into seducing his victims. He thought he had grown too comfortable in his powers and too trusting of the malleability of the local girls.

Frowning, he muttered quietly to the girl, 'forget tonight,' making sure he added an extra stab of power to assert his abilities, and disappeared, heading straight for the Old Wood to ponder. He had come to the conclusion, that night, that she could be _The One_ He tried convincing himself that he was wrong about Elena, that the jealousy he felt for Stefan, her true love, was only sibling rivalry. But he was lying to himself, and he knew it. What he needed was a woman who could take his mind off his pathetic pining, and he knew exactly who that woman, well girl, would be – Sophia.

Where Elena was light, Sophia was dark. Her hair hung almost at her hips in black ringlets, and her skin was an almost milky white when washed out by the light of the moon, though he knew that the remnant of a tan slightly coloured it, maybe from a holiday in the sun long ago. Her eyes were wide, and doe like, and framed by a forest of thick lashes.

No matter how hard he looked into the blackness of her eyes, he could never find anything, anything at all that would reveal her secret. He knew she had one – it was written all across her face, but he couldn't pry it from her, just as he couldn't feed from her unwillingly. Sure, he talked about tasting her blood some day, but he wanted her to want him to. He wanted... he wanted her to feel what Elena felt when feeding Stefan; a joyous rapture over nourishing someone you loved. Usually the girls he fed from were mentally blank. He couldn't stand their idle chatter, the buzz of their brains as he drank the blood from their slender necks, so they were usually put under until he was satisfied with his meal. But Sophia was different. She was cunning, wary of him, and somehow she knew exactly what he was. Yet, she always answered when he called at her window at obscene times of the night, and she always made sure she never invited him in. Instead, she'd meet him under the old oak in the courtyard. If she were strong now, as a young mortal girl, he couldn't imagine the possibility of her vampire power with just a little coaxing from him.

Damon was always careful not to Influence her. He wanted her completely, to capture her with his own charm and not vampire wiles. Maybe, if he could ensnare her with the same tactics he was sure many mortal boys had used on her, she could prove herself to be worthy of being his companion for the rest of eternity. She would be all his, and not because he forced her to, but because she had sacrificed her mortality for her affection for him. No longer would he feel an emptiness where his wildest delusions would lead him to think only the beautiful, and unavailable, Elena could fill. He would have his Princess of Darkness, and together they would stalk the shadows, a perfect match.

Lost in thought, Damon hadn't realised that the soft twilight had turned into complete darkness. He knew it had gotten late, and that she would be sound asleep by the time he tapped on her window, but he had to see her. Then, he thought with surprise at the soft aching in his teeth, he would feed. Not from another girl, he promised himself he would not feed from another girl, nor would he ever after he had fed from Sophia. But seeing Elena, tangled in the sheets with Stefan, sharing soft kisses and sweet nothings, deepened his frown.

'_On tonight's menu, a choice of woodland critter,_' He laughed to himself bitterly as he swivelled into sight of Sophia's apartment building. He couldn't understand how St. Stefan could ever abstain from human blood for so long; animals were a much more inferior choice.

He knocked on the window, his knuckles clicking against the glass until he saw Sophia's figure through the sheer white curtains, then her reluctant face as she pulled those curtains aside and recognised him through eyes that were still hazy with sleep. The curtain shut again, but he could sense her shuffling about inside, and knew that she was slowly making her way down the stairwell of the apartment block, only to come out into the courtyard in a nightgown, whose decorative neckline seemed to make the ache in his mouth throb persistently.

'_If only I could take you now,_' He said to himself wistfully, and all the while he exchanged cryptic banter with her. He liked being mysterious and unpredictable, and knew it annoyed Sophia to no end. But he was just as curious about her as she was about him. So far, he barely knew anything about her, only that she lived alone in her apartment, worked at the coffee shop to pay for college, and had other jobs, as well.

She always seemed pained to be in his presence, as if giving her precious time to him was an unpleasant experience, but then she'd never not met him outside. Even though he wasn't allowed into her apartment, he knew she couldn't resist coming down to the courtyard.

Tonight, she was especially restless. She had touched a sore spot – Elena, and she had the gall to act as if she didn't care at all, as if he was a pathetic creature mourning over what he can't have. He was more than that, he convinced himself. He was Damon Salvatore, and no woman, or girl, could make him believe he was anything less than the fine specimen he was. That was what he told himself as he slipped into the night, giving Sophia the peace she wanted the most from him.

Subconsciously, he had taken himself to the Old Wood to perch himself in a branch high up in a tree. It was where he went to think, to sulk, to scheme, to rest. The Old Wood was where he found peace, and also where, lately, he found his daily source of sustenance. His Power had dwindled a little, but he'd hardly had any excuse to use it. Things had slowly settled in Fell's Church... up until a couple of weeks ago.

It was after he had resolved to abstain from human blood, one of the first nights he had gone hunting in search of worthy prey. Whilst stalking some deer, he felt the slightest twinge of Power miles away, deeper in to the wood. It was strong, and most likely an entity drawn to the place because of the Ley Lines, and all the supernatural disturbances that had occurred months ago. The Power felt feminine, and had a bittersweet taste to it, as he scented the air some more, the deer completely forgotten. He began to hunt something else – something bigger, perhaps bigger than he was. The thought of a challenge always excited him, and a challenge _and _a fight, well, he imagined he'd be sleeping like a baby once he'd defeated this unknown Power that had arrived in Fell's Church.

He tracked the Power until the lead went cold, and to his disappointment, found nothing. When he'd felt as if he were on the verge of pouncing on it, he'd sense the Power slipping from under his nose, and could almost feel it laughing at him, humiliating him. He'd never heard of such a thing, an entity who was strong enough to hide from him at will, and then mock him with the splashback of their aura. He was humiliated, and even worse, still hungry. But the hunger could wait – what was it that the Power wanted from him? Of course, he was a powerful vampire himself, he wondered if it were testing him, seeing how far he could go.

He smiled at that thought, accepting the challenge the Power had so blatantly announced between them.

Since then, he'd caught wind of the Power every now and then. Sometimes it would appear two days in a row, sometimes it would disappear for a week, but it would always come back to tease him, always when he was in the middle of a hunt in the woods. There was never any news about a powerful creature that had turned up to Fell's Church – none of the others seemed to know about it, and it didn't seem to be causing such a disturbance that would reveal who, or what it was. It was something big and powerful, and yet, no one had other than himself even felt so much as a hint of it. There was always the odd murder in the surrounding towns, where the victims had been drained of their blood, but those were nothing of interest to Damon. The lack of killings proved it had hardly threatened his brother's and Elena's way of life in Fell's Church, proved it was relatively harmless towards humans.

He was still suspicious. It wasn't exactly on a killing spree, but who knew? Maybe it would change its mind and slaughter a whole town at once – he knew It was capable of doing so. And what did it even want from Damon? He had done nothing but keep watch of his brother and Elena since Klaus was finished off.

He'd never even once come close to catching it, and when he thought he did, he knew very well that it was because of some fluke, or that the entity he was chasing allowed him to do so – lulling him in to a false sense of hope that he could once, and for all, capture the mysterious being.

Now, Damon could feel a pair of curious eyes focused on him. He closed his eyes, scanning very carefully, and thoroughly, the surrounding area with his other sense. The Power was achingly close, he could feel it, and it was smiling at him. Not physically, but through its aura, which seemed neither here nor there.

_Reveal yourself now_, _coward,' _he projected. Though his diet of animals weakened him, he was still quite powerful. Now, he allowed that power to surge through and around him, as a warning. The smile he was feeling turned to soft laughter, which only infuriated him. '_I am not in the mood for these games. Who are you, and what do you want with me?'_ _  
_

Silence.

The smiling, the laughing, was gone, and all around Damon was silence. Not a creature stirred, and those that did so, did at the risk of being blasted into oblivion by the raw, angry ball of power that Damon had transformed into. Muttering to himself, Damon scanned the horizon for movement. The animals had been scared away, and so had any possibilities for dinner.

Sitting deep in the shadows was the white wolf, her grin seeming to stretch into the darkness. She had chosen to be close to him, close enough to tease him, let him taste her Power – but made sure that the white of her fur did not betray her presence. As easily as she slipped into his senses, she slipped out of them, smiling as she did so. When she had lost all interest in the Wood, _he_ had come, and just couldn't walk away. The opportunity to tease was just so irresistible.

She quietly watched him, sensing him with her ordinary senses high up in the trees. After a couple moments had passed, she heard the leaves rustling, and the flapping of large wings. He had gone in an angry spurt of feathers and flapping, and was now retreating to his lair, or whatever he called it.

'_I know who you are, Damon Salvatore,' _She quietly laughed, feeling the great crow in the sky falter in its flight, surprised and most likely taken off guard. '_Just as you know who I am._'


	3. Voyeur

It had been days since Sophia had a nightly visit from Damon. Now, she could feel the heavy weight of a gaze on her. She was being watched. Just because Damon hadn't physically appeared before her eyes, didn't mean he wasn't around. She knew, without glancing around, that somewhere beyond the main quad of the university was a large black crow.

Sophia stifled a mischievous smile, and turned to the young man vying for her attention. He was a history major, just like her, and was also on his lunch break. His name was Mike, or Michael – she couldn't remember, and didn't really care. He was handsome enough, with auburn hair that sometimes shone red in the sun, and eyes that were toeing the line between a pale grey and a very bright, light green. Across his nose was a very soft spattering of faint freckles that no ordinary eyes could see. But Sophia wasn't ordinary. And Mike's good looks, though decent enough for the other girls was nothing, she knew, compared to Damon's.

He was also tall, so tall that she had to painfully crane her neck to look up at him as he spoke to her. She never had that problem with Damon, who was just an inch or two above her meagre stature. Mike was a good boy: honest, intelligent, and she could feel his aura go warm and rosy whenever she accidentally-on-purpose touched him, or when her eyes met his. She knew that playing with him was wrong, but she just loved feeling him react to her simple actions. It was so deliciously human, something she was not.

He was talking about his family, but Sophia was hardly paying attention to his spoken words. She was picking out his brain, sifting through the images he was so plainly broadcasting. Without effort, she knew Damon was also picking them up, and they infuriated him. Mike wanted to kiss her, but it wasn't just that. He wanted more than that. He wanted to take her home to meet his parents, to whisk her away to his holiday house to enjoy some days in the sun and her company. He was imagining her walking down the beach that he had visited so often in his childhood, a beach he was now sharing with her. She was holding his hand, and the salty air was blowing through the long locks of her hair as they made their way down the stretch of sand.

Mike was a hopeless romantic, and it made Sophia turn pale.

He was wasting it all on her, instead of some other poor girl he could have had a proper chance with. Sophia would never see that holiday house, that stretch of sand, his parents. She just couldn't be that selfish. She pitied that he felt so strongly for her, yet she continued to flounce about the quad with him, her movements careful and precise for her audience. If Damon was going to spy on them, she might as well give him a show.

They were sitting down, now, not too far from her next lecture hall. Sophia shuffled that little bit closer toward him, and felt surprise, and then delight colour his mind and aura. He was still talking, stuttering slightly at her closeness, and then altogether silent when she placed her small hand on his and twined their fingers together. Simultaneously, she broadcast a thought so strong that Damon was bound to get it.

'_I like him. I like him very, very much,_' she seemed to say, just before her mouth met his in a kiss that was so slow, and so sweet that anyone watching would have turned away in politeness. But Damon wasn't polite, Sophia knew, and it was his fault for spying on her. From across the courtyard, she could feel his anger flare, which only seemed to feed her delight, and Mike himself took as a sign that she was enjoying herself.

_Oh yes_, she was enjoying herself, just not the way he expected.

Mike had also reminded her of something very important. Her mouth was softly aching around her canines, which were lengthening the more they kissed, the harder he pressed his warmth into her. She fought not to open her mouth against his, fought to keep it chaste, for his own good. It was true that he meant little to her, but he meant enough not to become one of her victims. That thought was all it took for her to wrench herself from him, just as she thought she was going to expose his neck and tear into it, and run away, run far,_ far away._


	4. Crocodile Tears

The walkways were beginning to fill with students, going to, and leaving previous classes. Sophia, in the swell of it all, darted between gaps of people, careful not to press too close to any of them.

_'I could kill them all, what do I care?'_ She asked herself, though she doused that thought as quickly as it had surfaced. It was amongst these people, this sea of humanity, that she was hiding. And so far, it had worked. She owed it to them, the humans, that she atleast not poach any innocents. That meant hunting far away from town, and even meant trips out of state.

But she didn't have time to drive out of state.

It was dangerous even considering feeding close to town, but she had no other choice. She would, at least, choose a victim who deserved a fit punishment. It seemed, everywhere she went, that there was always an abundance of abusers and molesters, all needing to be taught their lesson. Sophia smirked at the thought of her being a vigilante. But she was evil, and she could never escape the fact that, no matter how many she fed from, no matter how much they deserved it, it was all done in the name of vanity. So that she may live, and sustain herself. That, in itself, was ultimate selfishness.

In her haste to put a distance between the warm, blood filled bodies, she had forgotten all about Damon.

She was kicking herself for getting so careless, she couldn't ignore that he had shifted from his crow form, and was now tapping on the window of her car. She could feel the slight length her fangs had grown, dangerously close from jutting out beneath her lips. She dared not open her mouth, or even look up at the young man standing on the other side of the car door. Instead, she pretended not to hear his insistent tapping, and kept her head down, her mind furiously sprinting towards a lie that she could feed him without having to expose herself for what she, and certainly what Damon was – a vampire.

Instantly, she thrust images into him. Of a boy, a teenage boy whose face was contorted, and purple with rage. His fist was sailing towards her, and struck. The cut on her lip swelled with blood... blood, not a good idea. She snatched away her intense bloodlust from the conjured scene, fighting to continue on. Sadness. She pulled a sadness from deep within her, the sadness of years and years spent alone, and let it pour into him, as well; hiding her hunger.

Then, she looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise, crocodile tears lining the edges and threatening to spill. Of course, the scene was all a lie; the boy never laid a hand on her. She was projecting the memories of the boy's girlfriend, a tiny girl living in a town Sophia had passed many years before settling down. The boy's father was an abuser, one of many she had _taken care of_, and as she learned, his son was just as bad. When he had a bad day, he would make hers worse. When his grades were bad, her bruises were bad – and he was not a very bright boy, it seemed his grades were perpetually awful, and so were his beatings.

Sophia enjoyed taking his blood. She remembered worrying at his wound, shaking him around and tearing his flesh so easily, as if he were a thin sheet in the angry wind. Hearing him screaming, to stop, end it all quickly. Again, she had to struggle with keeping that memory from contaminating the one she had poured into Damon, and the struggle made her tremble with the effort. She breathed in deeply, and felt the air shakily escape her.

Damon was looking at her with an expression she hadn't yet seen. There was a softness in his face that was almost unbelievable, too amazing to even believe. She expected it to be wiped away by one of his movie star grins, or a smirk, at least. She looked down at her knees, then allowed herself another look. It was still there. This was not good.

'_I have to get out of here,_' She said, knowing he had picked it from her mind. It was the truth, she had to tell herself. But why would she even feel conscious about having to lie to him? She'd done it many times before – told little lies to protect the one big one. The Whopper: that she wasn't human. She was just like him – a centuries old vampire.

"No!" He fumbled at the door, then lowered his voice. "Please, don't go. Let me in...please."

Sophia's eyes widened. A tear had absently slipped down her cheek, and Damon had begun to fumble even more. Never had she seen him so clumsy, nor had she ever expected him to behave this way towards a weeping woman. She had to turn an incredulous laugh into a heaving sob, and hide behind her hair until she suppressed a fit of giggles – not an easy task.

Steadying herself, she asked, "What is it that you want, Damon?"

"To talk," he said simply. "Just talk."

Sophia raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "You're not hungry?"

He shook his head. '_Because I sure am_,' She thought, and had to suppress another smile. '_Oh, hell, I'm delirious. Delirious with hunger._'

"So are you going to let me in?"

Sophia looked at him, and knew well enough that he could rip the car door from its hinges and let himself in. He didn't even need an invitation; it wasn't a place where humans lived. He was asking out of sheer politeness – all because he saw a girl cry. "I _really_ must be going, Damon."

She knew her eyes would meet a certain expression – the one his face acquired when he was determined about something. He wanted to talk to her, and he wasn't going to leave any time soon. She needed a diversion, and knew just how to create one.

She only hoped it would work.

* * *

He didn't know what took over him, what possessed him to shift back into his normal form and try to... to comfort her. He remembered being irritated by that _boy_, the one who studied history that Damon himself had lived through; then being completely incensed when he and Sophia kissed, and she had pulled herself from him and ran away.

He had hurt her.

It took all his strength not to bare his wrath down upon that _boy_ and set him straight. Women, especially his Sophia, were not to be harmed. And any man, or even boy, who did so was a _codardo bastardo_; a cowardly bastard.

He wasn't in the right mind. He had just walked up to her, as she sat in her car, and asked to be let in _to talk...just talk_. Since when did Damon Salvatore ever '_just talk_'? But that's all he felt, then; the overwhelming need to wipe the tears from her cheeks and kiss away the drowning expression.

Kiss?

He had never wanted to kiss anyone else but _Elena_, and even then, that was going too far. Kisses were for humans. Kisses were bait for girls and women, no more part of his arsenal of weapons than his fangs. But... the kisses he wanted to plant on her would not lead to him feeding from her. He wanted just the opposite... to not _hurt_ her any more than she was.

Laughing to himself, he scowled inwardly. '_This is what you wanted..._' he told himself. '_You wanted to know more about her... now you do._' He couldn't help but feel invisible walls inching around him; his doom, he thought. He was sinking too far deep, and he could only watch helplessly, the damage occur from the inside. The last time he allowed himself this weakness was with _Katherine_.

'_She's a pretty little thing, Damon,_' A voice purred in his head.

His head shot up, and suddenly, he realised he was being _watched_. Just as he had watched Sophia, as he had spied on his brother and Elena, he himself was being made prey... No, not just himself.

Sophia was in danger.


	5. Dirty Dancing

_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ How could he lead the Power to Sophia like that?! Like a lion to a helpless gazelle, now she was just as doomed as he was, and for all the wrong reasons. Now he'd have to get even closer to her, to protect her, and he was stumbling dangerously close to falling into her trap, as easily as that mortal Mike had. He couldn't worry about that, now. The voice had started purring again.

'_I wonder if she tastes as sweet as she looks, Damon,_' the voice smiled. '_Will you let me have a bite?_'

_NO! DON'T EVER TOUCH HER!_

The voice laughed.

Damon whirled, feeling the slightest of movements behind him, a faint kiss on the back of his neck. There was no one there. The parking lot was empty, and everyone had gone inside. It was just the both of them... Sophia. He remembered her, sitting in the car exposed like a duckling bobbing in the water. Sophia was looking up at him with a crease in her brow, her eyes no longer wide with despair. She looked confused, as she pressed a small hand on the window. Her mouth was slightly parted, stupefied as her clumsy tongue stubbornly held onto the words she wanted to say. She looked startled.

Damon opened his mouth to say something... anything. But this time, he felt movement for real. The bittersweet taste of an aura was dancing on his senses, coming closer and closer, tasting sweeter and more bitter as it stalked towards them, smiling that infuriating smile.

"Get out of here, Sophia," He told her, almost _yelled_. Automatically, his body sprang into a crouch, and his eyes scanned all around them. "Get out while you can."

"Damon, what's happening?" Sophia asked, having finally found her voice, it was tight with urgency. "What's wrong?"

"Sophia, if not for your own sake, then for mine," He bit, his body coiling tighter and tighter as the thing advanced, "Get out while you can! NOW!"

The Power was teasing, now. It moved as if it were dancing, stepping forward a few steps, then bobbing back a few to music he couldn't hear. It was grinning, swaying backwards and forwards like a hurricane, laughing softly as she could feel the thickness of the air of panic wrapping itself around Damon, almost choking him while he warned Sophia.

A car engine turned, and Sophia was pulling away, her eyes glued to the rear view mirror. Damon wheeled around, the wind blowing his hair from his face. Suddenly clouds had appeared from above, and the day had turned almost as dark as night. Lightning clashed behind him, as the gale tore leaves from nearby trees. A few drops of water speckled Sophia's windscreen as she hurried from the campus, leaving Damon behind.

'_What do you want from me?!_'He called out; hoping idle chatter would delay its arrival. He never was one for talking in do-or-die situations; he liked to go straight to the killing part. But Sophia needed as much time as he could stall to escape, and get as far away as possible. Another bolt of lightning lit up the sky, and the voice laughed.

'_A bit too dramatic, isn't it, Damon?_' The Power was close now, he could feel it circling around him.

He contemplated shifting himself round and around, not wanting his back to his enemy, but found it was useless, anyway; plus he just looked silly. How could he face something that felt as if it were coming from every direction? He closed his eyes, and with all his concentration, tried to find an inconsistency in the web of aura advancing on him. It felt... different, somehow. As if, the closer it got, the weaker it felt... like an illusion. As he reached out to test the aura, it stabbed him defensively, and he cried out.

'_That was a warning, Damon._'

Though he was on his knees, gathering his breath, he smiled. The Power was no longer laughing. Somehow, he had shaken it; taken it by surprise.

It disappeared.

'_Show yourself!_' Damon cried.

'_You're no fun_,' The voice pouted, having gained its confidence back. '_Won't even share. Oh well. If Sophia is yours, then that pretty little thing, Elena, couldn't possibly be._'

'_NO!_'

'_I wonder if SHE tastes_,' it pondered, '_As heavenly as she looks?_'

The voice kept going on, but Damon wasn't listening. He was racing towards Stefan and Elena, to protect them, knowing that that was where the Power had fled to. Its voice was no longer thunderous in his ears, but fading softly into the sounds around him. The aura was fading, too. Damon broke into a sprint. He shifted seamlessly into a crow, cutting through the sky, all the while the voice conversed with him through mind-link.

'_You will not harm my brother, you will not harm Elena, and you will certainly not harm Sophia,_' Damon threatened, though he doubted the Power would listen. '_You do not want to make an enemy of me._'

'_Do I, Damon?_' The voice wondered. '_And how goes your new diet? Does that mean you're a vegetarian now? I've never really been one for human rights, myself. Hah._'

A thunderous laugh echoed through his head as he crashed through the tree tops, only stopping because of a window. _Stefan's window_, he thought with relief, as his brother's concerned face appeared through the translucent glass.

"Damon?"

As he dusted himself off, a familiar pair of green eyes appeared in front of him. "Damon, what is _wrong_ with you?!"

"N-nothing, nothing at all," Damon's eyes darted around. There was nothing lurking in the trees around them that he could feel. A quick glance inside the room revealed that all was well, and Elena was still sleeping peacefully in their bed. This was not what he expected to find.

Damon turned to Stefan and flashed him a quick smile, "Can't a brother visit his little brother without being questioned?"

Stefan's brow furrowed. He was still suspicious as he tasted his aura inconspicuously. "You're not drunk... You're... You are _weak_..." Stefan's green eyes widened with surprise.

Within a blink of an eye, Damon had scooped Stefan by the neck and was holding him inches off the ground. The Power hadn't revealed itself to either him, or his brother. It was bluffing, and had fooled him into thinking they would finally meet, and he would end things. The adrenaline rushing through his system made his muscles ache to be used before the rush would disappear and a faint aching would overtake the eager tingling in his limbs. The aching would be worse, now that his hunger was never completely satisfied. Damon was spoiling for a fight, and if Stefan, the brat, happened to be in the way... well, it was his fault.

"Weak, little brother? Is that the right word?" He asked, pressing his face as close as he could to Stefan's, which, to his delight, was turning a mottled red. "Could someone _weak _do _this_?" Damon tightened his hold of Stefan's neck, smirking as he watched his brother's fingers tug on his own. Human blood or not, he was still the strongest out of both of them, and he wondered just _how _strong he was with only animal blood animating him.

Stefan gasped, and was suddenly a pile on his bedroom balcony. He hid his hurt, refusing to rub at the marks on his neck, meeting Damon's eyes with impudence. "What are you doing here? You disappeared after Elena returned. I took that as a sign you didn't want anything to do with us anymore."

"I was going through the area, and thought I would drop by," He lied, shrugging as if he acted on a whim. He'd been there all along, watching over them, entertaining himself with the girls a couple towns over. Just as the other Power had, he realised, and a shiver ran down his spine.

"Now you have," Stefan rasped. "And now you can leave to continue doing whatever you were doing before you showed your face again." Damon contemplated telling his brother he was in danger, but what could _he_ really do? No, Stefan was better off not knowing, he resolved. He'd just have to keep a more watchful eye on him, from now on.

Without another word, he flung himself from the balcony and shifted in mid-air, '_See you around, little brother._' He thought as he flew off, but not before he heard Stefan shout 'hopefully not too soon!' behind him.

'_If only you knew_,' Damon shook his head, and turned in the direction of Sophia's.

* * *

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